Father's Day
by MarcusJuniusBrutus
Summary: Aftermath of the battle between SHIELD & the Inhumans – Skye's perspective. Warnings: Major spoilers through 2x22. Some character injuries.
1. Chapter 1

[The Usual Disclaimer: Nothing in this story is mine, from the characters to the settings.]

Skye crouched on the deck of the _Iliad_ , tears streaming from her wide brown eyes. She wanted to run to her parents, but it took several minutes for her to even manage to crawl over. Her entire body sagged downward, like it was being pulled magnetically toward the deck. After her mother had used superpowers to start draining Skye of her energy, Skye, understandably, could barely move.

She did start to feel again after some indeterminable length of time had passed, her numbness and exhaustion giving way to throbbing pain. At that point, she managed to croak out the word, "Dad?"

Cal shivered but looked up at the sound of her voice. The broken body of his wife – the woman he loved and the woman he'd just killed – lay in his arms. He pulled Jiaying close to his chest and sobbed out, "She was going to kill…"

"I know." Skye reached out one trembling hand and placed it on his shoulder. "Thank you."

"We can't leave her here."

Skye's head was still tingling, and she couldn't really think what to do, so she said the first idea that came into her head. "The infirmary? For now?" A morgue might have been better, but she didn't know where that was. She had, however, passed the infirmary, which was at least a place where they would be used to getting dead bodies.

Her father nodded and hauled himself to his feet, cradling his wife in his arms and allowing Skye to pull herself up with him, still clutching onto his shoulder. She leaned on him as they descended into the lower part of the aircraft carrier and made their way through surprisingly empty corridors. The few SHIELD agents they passed spared them a few scared stares, but seeing no threats, they hurried on to wherever they needed to be, giving the small family as wide a berth as they could manage in the tight spaces. The battle appeared to be over, but the ship stayed in crisis mode, as did the remaining personnel.

"I gotta take a break," Skye said about halfway through.

She and Cal paused in a small workroom to catch their breath. The room was pretty sparse – a small grey space filled with mostly tools. Her eyes were naturally drawn to the one personal item in that place, which was a calendar hanging on the wall, open to the month of June and displaying a picture of a very generic waterfall. Past days had been crossed out with a thick black marker, and when Skye saw what day it was currently, a lump rose in her throat.

It was Father's Day.

She'd lost track of time as she'd been living with her mother's people. To be honest, she'd stopped keeping track of most holidays from the time she joined SHIELD. But for her whole life, she'd always noted Mother's Day and Father's Day as they came and went, her spirits sinking a little farther each year.

Another round of tears welled up in her eyes, and Cal tentatively asked, "Daisy?" He clearly wanted to help her but didn't know quite how.

"Sorry." She swiped at the tears with her dark jacket sleeve. "I just… spent my whole life looking for my parents. Then I heard you both were dead. Then I found out about all of this." She gestured around vaguely.

"And then you replaced us," he spat out with sudden vehemence.

Familiar with his mood swings, Skye held up her hands and spoke softly in an effort to placate him. "No one could replace my parents. SHIELD's been my family, but that doesn't mean you're not my family, too."

"No onecould replace us?" Cal demanded. "Not even _him_?"

Skye didn't know how to respond to that honestly without upsetting him. Obviously, he was talking about Coulson, who'd been like a father to her practically as long as she'd known him. By this time, Skye felt closer to Coulson than she did to Cal or to anyone else, really. Her silence stretched on as she fumbled in her head for the right words, and Cal had all the answer he needed.

"I thought so."

"No, I just…"

"Do you know how much I've hated that man? How much I want to hate him now?"

Skye opened her mouth, closed it, and then started again, reorienting her thoughts to take in what she thought she'd just heard him say. "How much you _want_ to hate him?" she repeated incredulously. "You mean you don't?"

Cal laughed bitterly. "It's kind of sad, if you think about it. I was hating a man because he took care of my little girl when I couldn't do it. He's not…" Cal hesitated, struggling to force out the painful words. "He's not such a bad person, really. After all, he did bring me back here to save you."

"Coulson brought you here?" She couldn't imagine the scenario that would have led to that decision, but she didn't attempt to comprehend it. "He's here now?" She realized belatedly that she should have at least tried to disguise the eagerness in her voice. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean… Well, I have to go apologize to him. He probably thinks I betrayed him."

"Of course he doesn't. He never did." When Skye eyed him curiously, Cal explained, "The two of us had quite a talk. Mostly about you." He didn't elaborate, and she suspected he never would repeat anything that had passed between himself and Director Phil Coulson; it would hurt him too much. So far, he hadn't even been able to say the man's name. Instead of dwelling on this, Cal suggested, "There must be other people in the infirmary – people with radios – and they can call him up. Or, I suppose, you could leave me and head for the bridge." His voice trembled as he said this, bracing himself for her expected desertion. "That's probably where he ended up."

As much as she wanted to go make things right with Coulson, she forced a sad smile and said, "I'm not leaving you, Dad."

He cleared his throat and made for the door. "Then we should get going."


	2. Chapter 2

Skye and Cal trudged silently for the rest of the slow, laborious journey, which sadly did not lead them past any more SHIELD agents. A whole bunch were clustered around the infirmary, though, and just as Skye arrived with her parents, a small contingent of them were trying to push their way through the crowd.

These young agents were using low hand carts to transport the crumbled, rocky remains of some people Skye didn't recognize. The unfamiliarity might have been due to their desiccated state, but she hoped it was just because she didn't know them. After all, she'd never been to the _Iliad_ before, and she didn't know the crew.

Yes, they were still people. They were still SHIELD agents. But Skye didn't know how much more heartache she could take that day, but losing friends would be more than she could bear.

"Skye!" Fitz called, spotting her through an open doorway. He emerged from what appeared to be a small waiting area, Mack trailing him closely. The timid Scotsman and the hulking mechanic had been unlikely friends until a recent falling out, and now they at least seemed to be peacefully coexisting in the same room.

However, Fitz's eyes were red and swollen from tears, and behind him, Mack was shaking. Actually shaking. It was a scary and unlikely thing to see in such a large, fearless man.

With a glance at Cal, Skye limped over to Fitz. Cal continued on his way, plowing through the constant stream in and out of the busy infirmary to bring his dead wife inside. Skye didn't want to think about the casualties in that room that were creating that traffic, so she focused on her friend instead.

"Are you alright?" Fitz asked, his pleasantly rolling accent offset with concern.

"I'm fine. You?"

He hung his head and mumbled, "I'm good."

Not too convinced by his "good," Skye pressed, "What is it?"

With a slight head tilt in the direction of the infirmary, Fitz sniffled slightly. "Agent M…May's in there now," he stuttered. Skye hadn't heard him stutter in a while, but his words were far more important than how he said them.

Fear straightened her spine, and she whipped around to dart into the infirmary, but Mack reached out and seized her arm. "Let go, Mack," she told him, fists clenching at her sides.

If Coulson had been like a father to her, May had slowly, reluctantly, been sliding into the role of mother. Skye had to see if she was going to make it, or exactly how badly off she was.

"Hold up, there, Tremors," he said, his nickname referring to her earthquake superpowers. It was a repeat of what he'd called her earlier that day, but under the present circumstances, she wouldn't hold lack of creativity against him. She'd only hold it against him if he didn't let her into that infirmary. "Agent May is fine. Well, she's got a few bumps and bruises, but which of us doesn't have those today?"

Skye shook off Mack's hand, but he didn't have the energy to grab her again.

He did keep talking, though, for a little bit longer. "You should stay out of there. It's pretty crowded, and the medics need to do their jobs." He used the word "medics" loosely, since there probably hadn't been that many to begin with, and then a battle raged throughout the understaffed ship, which no doubt reduced the numbers even further.

"Okay, fine," she conceded. "Do either of you have a radio? I should get in touch with Coulson."

The two of them stared at her with wide eyes, several uncomfortable seconds too long. Then Fitz stammered out, "I…I don't have a radio."

"The Director's busy right now," Mack added.

Skye understood in an instant. She understood the tears and the stutters, and she understood why they didn't want her going into that infirmary.

It looked like Jiaying's war against SHIELD would cost her daughter more than she could stand to lose.

As Skye stood frozen to the spot, the world around her started to shake.


	3. Chapter 3

As the _Iliad's_ hallways shook around her, Skye whispered, "Coulson. May's in the infirmary with Coulson." Mack started to protest, but she ignored him and flew into the infirmary, exhaustion replaced by adrenaline.

As soon as the doors slid open, the first thing Skye saw was her father lowering Jiaying's blood-streaked body onto a cot. It wasn't as though there were cots to spare, but no one wanted to interfere with the unstable man who had super-strength.

Agent Melinda May hovered near the next bed, which was surrounded by so many people and medical instruments that Skye couldn't see the person laying there. May was clearly in the way, but no one was asking her to leave. Most of them probably thought she was just as terrifying as Cal was. Skye had to agree.

At that moment, May was drilling the medics with a glare that could have cut through stone, and she had all the strength and will to back up any implied threats. If they failed their patient, they would answer for it.

Impatiently, Skye wedged herself between the blood-soaked men and women in surgical masks until she could see the pale form on the cot. Phil Coulson lay there motionless, skin ghostly white from blood loss. His shirt was off, revealing a network of scars, most prominently the vertical line over his heart, which was large enough to be easily visible through his dark chest hair. The bare skin provided the medics easy access to the monitors Coulson was attached to, to the needle that was transfusing blood into his right arm, and also to his left arm, where they were doing most of their work.

That is to say, the remains of his arm.

Skye managed to avoid gawping at it for about three seconds before her eyes were inevitably drawn to the bloody stump, where the medics were busily clamping the severed arteries.

The world around Skye buzzed with life, the way it always did when she listened to its vibrations.

Shakes turned into quakes. Tremors rippled through the room, shattering glass and overturning medical instruments.

When a needle broke in a medic's hand, he dropped it in surprise and ordered, "Get her out of here!"

May's seized Skye by the shoulders and steered her from the infirmary, back into the hallway. "Stop, Skye," she hissed. "Just stop. You won't help him this way."

"I know. I know. I can't… No!" The last work came out as a scream, and the ship took a dip to the starboard side. Everyone in sight tumbled into the wall before the ship righted itself. It was a wide vessel, not meant to list so far to the side, and the agents crowding the hallway began to murmur and reach for their weapons.

May drew her ICER pistol. "Skye, don't make me use this. You can control it on your own. You _need_ to control it."

She _had_ been controlling it. Ever since meeting her mother and her people, Skye had been so in control of her powers that she'd felt she could take on the world.

But right now, she couldn't remember exactly what that felt like. She couldn't remember the peace that came with it. "My mother did this," she sobbed, backing away from May and into the waiting room to join a terrified Fitz and Mack. "My mother attacked SHIELD and I didn't stop her. I _helped_ her fight off the SHIELD agents. I threw _you_ across a courtyard. I sided with her over you, over SHIELD, over _him_!"

Fitz reached over to put a comforting hand on her back, but she recoiled from the touch. It reminded her too much of other things. Of the time the Bus was plummeting downward in a storm, when Skye sat there gripping her seatbelt in terror and Coulson wordlessly took her hand in his. His hand that was no longer there.

For that matter, how many times had she hugged him when she was scared or lonely? How many times had he wrapped his arms around her and made her feel safe? That could never happen again, and she knew she deserved that as punishment for what she'd done. But he didn't deserve it.

The carrier started to roll again, this time to port. May crowded into the room and aimed her gun at Skye's chest. "I swear, if you don't pull yourself together, I will pull this trigger."

Before she could make good on that threat, a skinny young medic appeared behind her. "Agent May, Director Coulson is awake. He's asking to see Skye."

"What!? You need to go back there and finish the surgery _now_."

"I know that, Ma'am, but in the meantime, we need him to calm down." He shrugged helplessly. "He seems to be aware of what's going on on the ship, and what's causing it. It's upsetting him, and we need to get his vitals down." Bitterness tinged his voice as he added under his breath, "We would put him under or at least sedate him, but our sedatives just exploded along with our anesthesia."

May lowered her ICER and regarded Skye warily. "Then Skye will have to do, once she calms down herself."

Skye hugged herself unconsciously and backed up against a wall. She knew she needed to calm down, but she couldn't think what calmed her down besides Coulson. She closed her eyes and pictured his face with the occasionally mischievous grin that she'd been seeing less and less these days. But that picture came tainted with guilt.

Fitz came up next to her again and pulled her into his arms. This time he didn't let her flinch away, and she returned the embrace, sobbing into the side of his neck as the tremors finally started to subside. So Fitz was the answer for now. He was her friend. He'd been there for her in the past. And she hadn't done anything horrible to him.

So she stood there crying and listening to his occasional, "It's okay, Skye. It'll all be okay." Then, when the world was still again, she pulled back and attempted a weak smile.

"I guess it's time to go," she said softly, wishing it was just her and Fitz talking. "But I don't know what to say to him. I don't even know how I'll look him in the face."

"Ah, he won't notice. He's probably all delirious from blood loss." This was said with such a straight face that Skye honestly couldn't tell if Fitz was serious or not. He continued, "Anyway, I think he'll be good once he sees that you're safe."

"Besides," Mack added, "you weren't the one who cut off his hand. That would be me."

"It was to save his life," Fitz assured her quickly.

None of that really put her in a very comforting mindset, but it didn't matter. She had a duty to do. She turned to May and the medic and nodded decisively. "I'm ready," she said.


	4. Chapter 4

When Skye returned to the infirmary, she was conscious of the weight of all the eyes that followed her entrance. "I was sent for," she announced.

This time the medics parted before her, and she sidled up to the right side of Coulson's cot, where the people weren't as close together. Some of the monitors were gone, at least. Skye suspected she may have smashed them during her last panic attack.

A weak but relieved smile lit Coulson's face as soon as he saw her – the same smile he'd given her when she'd rescued him from captivity and torture. The smile extended to those lines that wrinkled the corners of his blue eyes, and Skye did her best to force a smile in return. "A.C.," she greeted.

"Skye."

Skye did her best to ignore the medics as they checked his heart rate and his blood pressure. More importantly, she did her best to ignore her father, who was staring intently at the scene from his place at Jiaying's side.

"You're safe." It wasn't Coulson's keenest observation ever, but to be fair, he couldn't really be thinking straight.

"I'm sorry."

One medic with a stethoscope pressed over Coulson's heart shook his head at her. That wasn't the train of conversation she should be taking. Even she could see the rapid rise and fall of his chest and his shallow breaths.

Skye grabbed his right hand and squeezed it tight. "Shh. Calm down. I'm sorry for saying I'm sorry. Please, just… Shh." Coulson's breath started to slow, and Skye felt herself following suit.

"Keep talking," May prompted softly from behind her.

"Pizza," she blurted, coming up empty on non-upsetting subjects. "You know, I almost got some good Chicago-style pizza the other day, but it didn't happen. I was kind of disappointed." Skye probably could have kept babbling like that for a while, but she kind of hoped he'd pass out again soon.

He grimaced in pain at whatever the medics were doing to his left arm. Out of the corner of her eye, Skye could see various instruments and gauze coming away from the area all bloody.

Coulson did drift off for a moment but jerked awake almost instantly. "Don't fight it," Skye told him. "You should go back to sleep."

"Skye?"

"I'm still here."

His eyelids began to droop shut again in spite of his obvious efforts, and he said, "I don't want anything unsaid between us, just in case." The words came out slow and breathy, but Skye could still easily follow what he was saying.

"I don't think there is," she protested. "You know you've always been like a f…"

"The truth serum," Coulson interrupted.

"What?"

"You wanted to know about the truth serum."

When the two of them had first met, Coulson had supposedly dosed one of his own people with truth serum and let Skye question him about SHIELD. This event was the first thing that made her want to trust SHIELD, though ironically, it may have been a lie. The other SHIELD agent later claimed that he was playing along with Coulson and that SHIELD didn't have a truth serum. "At this point, I don't think it matters what happened in that interrogation room. I'm just glad that it did happen."

Nevertheless, Skye did lean forward as Coulson choked out, "The truth is that SHIELD…" His voice trailed off, and he lay still again.

Still leaning close, her ear next to his mouth, Skye's jaw dropped open. "Are you kidding me?" she asked incredulously. "You so totally did that on purpose. You just want to keep me guessing forever. I don't even believe you're really unconscious right now." She glared up at the medics. "Someone poke him with something."

They were already poking him with plenty of things, and they ignored her. Skye could have sworn she saw the ghost of a smirk flit across Agent May's face. "Skye's right, Phil. That's not funny."

It was kind of funny and very much like Coulson to tease her like this. "Come on," she pleaded. "You can't do this to me. You're the worst." When Coulson didn't move, Skye panicked again. "Oh, no, you did not hear me say that. Coulson. Please don't let that be the last thing you hear me say to you. You're not the worst. You're the best. You're… definitely unconscious right now."

"Good work, Skye. You can go now, but don't wander off too far."

"Can't I stay?" she asked May. "You are. And I promise to do anything I'm told."

"That would be a first."

"I deserve that, but I don't want to leave him."

May's mouth tightened into a thin line. "I wouldn't want anything to upset you. If you see him die right now, I'm not sure the ship would survive it."

"Let her stay," Cal rumbled from his side of the room. "My Daisy's stronger than you think." He started to approach Coulson's bed, but May met him a couple feet away. They stood just about toe-to-toe, glaring at each other until one of the exasperated medics pointed at the door.

"All three of you, out. You're crowding the operating area, and we need to work."

They obeyed reluctantly and joined Fitz and Mack in the waiting area, which was starting to fill with other men and women waiting for word on their own friends. May changed her mind about having company and marched off to unknown areas of the ship. Skye and Cal, meanwhile, squeezed into a corner of the now standing-room-only space. A few people offered up their seats, but Skye and her father waved away the offers.

Instead, Skye nestled against Cal's side as his arm slipped supportively around her shoulders. She rested her head against him and let out a deep sigh.

And then they all waited.


	5. Chapter 5

Three Days Later…

Skye sat slumped on a chair by Coulson's bed in the temporary quarters Agent Weaver had found for him on the _Iliad_. Rank had its privileges, Weaver had said lightly. What she didn't say was that the medics had begged her to find somewhere for the Director to recover, as his long line of hopeful visitors tramping in and out of their infirmary was disrupting the work flow.

Most of his visitors were turned away on the first day, Coulson's team and Agent Weaver being the only exceptions to the rule. He was asleep for most of that day anyway, but it didn't stop half the people on that ship from attempting to poke their heads in and reassure themselves that their leader hadn't died again.

He was still breathing, the medics assured SHIELD at large. They did have to pump his veins full of new blood – all of it human this time, they promised to general relief – but there hadn't been any complications. Only time would tell, but for the present, he seemed to be holding steady.

Agent Simmons arrived on the carrier about the time Agent Coulson was regaining consciousness and immediately took over his treatment. Of course, she also quickly caved to his requests for visitors. "Keep them short, though," she instructed firmly.

He nodded agreeably to her orders before personally contacting about half of the agency to let them know he was recovering. Those who were on the ship stopped by his room, and whenever these miscellaneous personnel were absent, Skye was sitting by Coulson's side, the same way he had after she'd been shot.

At that moment, it was about two in the morning. Skye had drifted off in her chair but was woken up by a sharp crash. Her slumped body jerked upright, and her eyes darted around the room for the source of the commotion.

A sheepishly-smiling Coulson waved for her to stay in her chair, "Sorry to wake you, Skye. I tried to grab the glass of water by my bed, but I just knocked it over. I'm a little clumsy for some reason."

"Simmons said you probably would be." Skye ignored his motion and stood up, stretching out her tight back which had gotten a few kinks over the course of the night. "From shock."

Coulson sniffed disdainfully at the idea, apparently too proud to admit that he could succumb to such a thing.

"I'm getting you more water." She ignored his half-hearted protests and marched down to the mess to grab a new glass. A few people she didn't know were puttering around grabbing late-night snacks. One of the Koenig brothers – Skye could never tell them apart – sat huddled in a corner ladling spoonfuls of ice cream into his mouth from a quart-sized tub.

He looked so miserable that Skye had to pause her mission of mercy to give him a quick smile and wave. "Is something wrong?" Agent Koenig asked, apparently surprised to see Skye away from her post.

"Don't worry. He's still coherent. I just came down to get him a glass of water."

"Maybe I could come with you?" he suggested eagerly. He was the one person so far whose presence Simmons had strictly forbidden. Already known as something of a chatterbox, it appeared that his garrulousness only got worse when he was nervous. His one visit with Coulson left the director staring blankly and unresponsively at the ceiling, looking close to catatonic.

Now the banished Agent Koenig moped around like a hurt little puppy (actually a pretty stocky puppy), and Skye tried to remind herself that feeling bad for him meant she shouldn't laugh at him. "I think he probably means to go back to sleep."

"That's okay, I could just sit with you." Before she could tactfully reject him, a familiar British voice chimed in,

"Or you could all give someone else a turn."

Skye tilted her head in confusion as she turned to face Agent Lance Hunter. Habitually unshaven, the man sported an extra-long coat of stubble, and he smelled as though he hadn't showered in a while. "Hunter? What are you doing here? Did you just arrive?" Hunter had already checked in a few times since the battle, bus Skye assumed he'd be staying back at the base with his ex-wife, who'd just been shot. "How's Bobbi?"

"She's stable, and she ordered me to visit the _Iliad_. Said she found my whining and worrying to be very irritating and unrestful and that I wasn't allowed to see her again until I came to check on Coulson."

Her previous confusion doubled, creasing her forehead with several deep lines. "I didn't think you and Coulson were close."

"That's because you're behind the times, love. You've been away."

"I guess."

Hunter held up his hands. "Don't worry, I'll let the man get his beauty rest. I'll pop in first thing tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'm starving."

"And you smell bad."

Hunter sniffed at his shoulder and nodded his agreement. "See you tomorrow."

Skye fetched the glass and brought it back to Coulson's room, hoping he would have just fallen asleep by the time she got back. "Hunter's here," she informed him while filling the glass with tapwater from the adjacent bathroom's sink.

"What? What about Bobbi?"

"That's what I said." Skye cranked the faucet shut and brought Coulson his water, perching on the edge of his bed to help him drink it.

"I've got it, Skye."

"No you don't. Shut up." She pressed the glass against his mouth and tipped it up. "Apparently, he was worried about you, which is kind of sweet."

After a quick drink, Coulson held up a hand to indicate that he was finished. Skye set down the glass and watched him nervously, wondering what else shock would do or had done to him. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of his navy bedspread as he wiped away a line of water at his mouth with the edge of his sleeve. "What are you thinking about?"

She didn't want to bring up the shock thing again, so she smiled as brightly as she could and improvised. "I was thinking… You do remember what we were talking about, right?"

She didn't fool him for a second, but he dropped the subject and played along. "What we were talking about when?"

"During your surgery."

"You were there?" He made a show of surprise that was far too unconvincing for a spy of his experience. Clearly, he intended to bait her some more. "That's right. You were saying something about pizza."

"And you were saying something about truth serum."

"Was I? Interesting."

"Yeah," Skye agreed. "You're never gonna tell me, are you?" Coulson only smirked, and Skye heaved an exaggerated sigh. "Copy that. So, are your doctors letting you eat solid foods yet?"

"They haven't forbidden them, but I still can't keep much down."

He said this very nonchalantly, but Skye felt her throat tighten. "Oh, well, when you can eat again, I think I owe you a grilled cheese sandwich."

"That'd be nice. I think I'll have a hard time cooking for a while."

With a mood swing that reminded Skye of her own father, she slapped a palm down on the mattress and demanded, "How are you okay with this? _I'm_ not okay with this. _No one else_ is okay with this."

"And that's why I need to be," he replied simply.

Skye shook her head vehemently. "No, you need to be screaming or crying or throwing a temper tantrum or doing whatever you have to to get through this with your sanity intact."

"I appreciate your concern for my sanity, Skye, but _I'll_ be okay if I know that _SHIELD_ is okay." He patted her hand and nodded with the finality of a man who has closed the subject. "Good night, Skye."

She glared and did not reply. Instead, she sat beside her mentor and father-figure in stony silence until she was sure that he was fast asleep. Then she softened and kissed his cheek – something she would never do if he was awake – and returned to her own chair.


	6. Chapter 6

She could have sworn she hadn't even nodded off, so brief was her nap, but when she woke up a second time that night, the first thing she did was check her watch. 4:02 a.m.

She crossed the faintly-lit room to check on Coulson, her bare feet dodging the broken glass that she'd decided to leave until morning. He was laying on his side, facing the wall, so she couldn't tell if he was awake or not. "Sir?" she whispered.

Receiving no response, she nearly backed away, but then she started to reorient herself to the situation and realized that Coulson wasn't laying like a sleeping man. His body was stiff but trembling, and his one good arm was wrapped tightly around his stomach. Squinting through the dark, Skye could just make out a damp patch of sweat that darkened the back of his shirt.

"Coulson? Talk to me, or I'm calling Simmons."

"I'm awake. Sorry again."

Skye shook her head in exasperation and turned on the lights without thinking to warn him. His body curled slightly as he winced from the sudden brightness. "Stop saying you're sorry. What happened?"

"Nightmare."

Some part of her foggy, sleep-deprived brain told Skye that he must have woken her with a cry or a moan or some other unintentional noise, but she didn't think he'd admit to anything specific. She touched the back of his neck, which was as sweaty as his back, and heat radiated into her palm. "You're burning up. I guess I'm calling Jemma after all." She reached for a wall panel but stopped when Coulson begged,

"Please don't do that. I'll be fine. Or else, I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle."

Skye reached down and rolled Coulson onto his back. He was still squinting against the light and otherwise appeared utterly mortified. "I never knew that you were as self-conscious as the rest of us," she teased as she returned to the bathroom, this time to get a wet cloth to cool him down with.

She started with his face and neck, bringing down his temperature with the cool water of the washcloth. He bore her ministrations in mute silence, fixing his gaze past her shoulder at some point in the distance. He'd worked his face back into the blank expression that Skye hated whenever it cropped up. She wished Coulson would learn a little something from Cal about how people should express their feelings. "Chest and back next," she told him. "Take off your shirt."

"Excuse me?" A flash of panic lit his eyes, and Skye felt simultaneously apologetic and triumphant.

"Do it. You're baking. You don't want me calling Simmons, remember?"

His subsequent glare told her that her threat was already getting repetitive. Then he clenched his jaw and went back to being as stoic as possible as he awkwardly peeled off his damp shirt with one hand. Skye helped him so that the fabric wouldn't get caught on the bandages that wound around the stump of his left arm.

Then Skye started wiping down his torso and his arms, making a few trips to the bathroom to moisten the washcloth whenever it started to get warm. He remained almost perfectly still, though whenever she touched any of his scars, his mouth tightened slightly.

"Still repressing," Skye informed him, to which he replied,

"I promise you, Skye, I will have a nice meltdown later – just not right here and now."

"Uh, huh."

"I'll need to take some medical leave anyway. I just have to keep it together until then, and I would appreciate it if I had your support."

Since Coulson didn't sound ironic or sarcastic as he said this, Skye couldn't really retort with sarcasm of her own. Instead, she remained silent until she finished cooling him down. "Do you want to talk about your nightmare?"

"No."

"I mean, I can guess..." She surveyed his face for hints, but finding none, she shrugged. "If you're sure."

"I'm sure. Thank you, Skye. If you want to talk about your own dreams, though, I'm happy to listen."

"No, I'm good." She returned to her chair and drifted back to sleep to face a few nightmares of her own, and the images flew fast and thick and predictable. Cal killing Jiaying. Coulson killing Jiaying. Skye herself killing Jiaying. Various other combinations of these and other people Skye cared about killing each other. It was all a little too on the nose for her, and it left her with a sick lump in her stomach when she roused herself for the final time that morning.

The last image lingering in Skye's mind was of her dream-self using her powers to somehow stab through dream-Coulson's heart. A concentrated burst of vibrations sliced through his chest, leaving a bloody stain spreading across his suit… And then she woke up.

She checked her watch. 7:15 a.m. Most people on the ship would probably be up right now.

Then she checked on Coulson and found him awake, staring at the ceiling with hollow eyes and absentmindedly picking at his bandage. "I'm afraid that once I have my meltdown I won't be able to snap out of it," he confessed, picking up the conversation where it had left off hours before.

"You didn't get back to sleep, did you?"

"No, I've been laying here, thinking."

"You do too much of that. You need to switch off your brain." She tapped him on the forehead and then addressed what he'd said. "Of course you'll snap out of it. Whenever you get hurt, you always bounce back."

She gently pulled his hand away from his bandages, and he replied, "It's been getting harder and harder every time, and I don't know how much longer I can do this. I want to be there for SHIELD. For you. You of all people must be devastated right now, but no one's looking after you because you're shut up in here with me."

He was looking more and more agitated as he spoke, and Skye placed a couple fingers against his carotid to take his pulse. The artery throbbed rapidly in his neck, and Skye announced, "Heart rate's a little fast, but at least you're not still warm. I was worried you might have a fever from an infection or something." She chewed on her lower lip and considered calling Simmons after all. "You still need your rest after losing all that blood."

"And _you_ need to go take care of yourself instead of wasting your time waiting on a… on me."

She smacked the side of his head with her open palm, a little more gently than she wanted to but a little harder than she intended.

"What was that for?" Coulson protested.

"For whatever you were about to call yourself. Do not for one second think I'm wasting my time here. My mother was just killed. In front of me. My father is going to be in a SHIELD jail for the rest of his life. I am here, Sir, to reassure myself that I still have a family, and to make sure my family will make it through this crisis."

"In one piece?" Coulson joked unnecessarily. "'Cause you're a bit late for that." He softened into at least a shadow of his old smile, slowly struggling out of his temporary self-pity. Skye couldn't help smiling along with him. "And I have been thinking about Cal. I feel for him. I truly do. He's a broken man, but a caring one."

Skye swallowed hard. "It's okay, Sir. I know he has to go away."

Coulson paused and licked his lips, choosing his next words carefully. "Yes, he has to go away, but not necessarilyto a SHIELD jail cell. It wouldn't really be the ideal setup – me wasting manpower guarding a repentant man, and him trapped with his misery until he dies."

Of _course_ it wasn't ideal, but Skye didn't see a better option. What she wouldn't give to have both Coulson and her father alive, free and happy, but at that point, she thought it would be easier to accept the inevitable. "Please don't get my hopes up. You know as well as I do that he's still unstable. Where could we possibly send him, besides prison, where he can't hurt anyone?"

Another long pause, and Skye could tell it was costing Coulson a great deal to say what he was about to say. "I was thinking maybe Tahiti."

Realization dawned, and there it was again – that unwanted, unasked-for hope. "Oh." The one stunned word escaped her lips, and it took her a while to realize that he was waiting for a little more of a response.

"What do you think?" he prompted.

She threw her upper half on top of him and wrapped her arms around him in a tight hug. He froze at first, not sure how to react, just like the first time she'd hugged him, but now, just like then, he eventually did return the embrace. This time it was only one arm that he wrapped around her back instead of two, but it was enough.

When she finally pulled away, it was with a smile of her own – one that she knew she hadn't worn in quite some time. "I think all three of us are going to be okay."

-END-


End file.
